


Icy Showers

by OkamiShadou98



Series: After Lucifer's Return from Hell Collection [2]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Cold Showers, F/M, PTSD, Post Hell, partners caring for partners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:34:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25417771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OkamiShadou98/pseuds/OkamiShadou98
Summary: Sometimes, a freezing shower is the only thing that can keep Lucifer from feeling the flames of Hell licking at his heels.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Series: After Lucifer's Return from Hell Collection [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1835839
Comments: 19
Kudos: 132





	Icy Showers

**Author's Note:**

> So I've begun to create a series of sorts with one shots all centered around Lucifer and Chloe after the former's return from Hell. My hope is each one will be stylistically different. For instance, this is the first fic I've written in present tense. Each will deal with a different aspect of Deckerstar as they work to navigate Lucifer's recovery and build a relationship after so long apart.
> 
> Beta read by the consistently impressive MorningStarGirl666 and quite a few people on Twitter.

The water pouring from the shower head cuts into his skin like so many icy talons, droplets tracing paths of frozen fire over goosebump flesh. He knows all about burning by fire but in some ways, the burn of freezing water bites even worse.

The water is slow to drain from the bottom of the shower, leaving him standing in a puddle of needles. Numb toes twitch but the pain has long since been silenced.

He shakes and shivers, clawing at tiled walls with ghostly white hands. Blue veins stand out, a curving road twisted around darker freckles.

He’s so cold.

But if he’s cold, then he’s here and not _there_. Not amongst the brimstone and eternal flames. Not amongst floating ash and acrid smoke.

He is a creature of desire, burned by fire. Oh wait, isn’t that Frost? Maybe.

His breath steams, billowing out from wheezing lungs. How much longer can he stand it? Three minutes? Four?

The numbness has crept up his ankles, entwining around his calves. Trembling knees knock together. And still he bows beneath the shower head.

There’s the familiar creak as the ill fitted bathroom door opens.

He’s frozen. Statue-like. Fingers stuck as claws. Dripping hair icicles.

A hand brushes past the curtain, grasps the dial and turns. The cascade of ice sputters out to a few wayward drops.

And then there is a towel. Hands. He feels only the pressure, that numbness now all encompassing.

Out of the shower now. He stumbles. Nearly falls. 

The hands steady him. The towels dry.

Heat returns in painful patches of over-sensitized skin, the shaking morphing into small trembles.

Clothes. Against him. Around him. Dryer warmed. 

His body sucks greedily at the new source as hands lead him from the room, settling him onto a bed.

“Oh Lucifer. Why?”

He twitches at her voice, sight clearing. She stares at him mournfully from eyes which have trapped the ocean. Streaks of blue. Not red. Life. Not death.

He reaches out tentatively, brushing against her blouse - fingers, not claws - and tugs her closer.

She obliges and he rests his head against her stomach. Arms wrap around his shoulders. An anchor. 

Beneath his ear lays a symphony. Gurgles. Whistles. Groans. Sounds of the living.

He pushes his face firmly, nosing at her shirt. Her hand finds his hair, wet locks dripping down his spine.

The shiver of ice.

He’s here. Not there.

Here.

Not there.

 _Here_.

He’s home.


End file.
